Fallen

The wind is in from Africa. So sang Joni. But here the wind is in from Stavanger, right onto our front door. The SK fashioned a draught excluding dog to tether the billowing draught excluding curtain to the floor. Out back, where I briefly ventured to stack logs, the birch leaves were being stripped from the tree. Indeed, they jewel the ground.
And much later I’d to venture out to check out the son’s new abode. Well, I didn’t actually get to check out the sleeping quarters but I gather his roommate is a docile fellow.